


Reigned In

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Love Crumpet [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Dark!Mycroft, M/M, Non Consensual, Rape, Vehicular Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft had once water-boarded a suspect in the back of a Jaguar 308-- strapped him in with his legs against the back of the seat, head down in the footwell, and had the driver go down a very poorly constructed country road. All he'd needed was a liter of water, and it all had cleaned up so very well. He had an affinity for his vehicles, but the current BMW was a special favourite for luxury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reigned In

One of the many perks of his occasionally grueling service to Queen and Country was the access it afforded him to a wide range of bespoke, high security vehicles. All the luxuries one could want to carry on the work of the office on the road. All of the work of the office. Mycroft had once water-boarded a suspect in the back of a Jaguar 308-- strapped him in with his legs against the back of the seat, head down in the footwell, and had the driver go down a very poorly constructed country road. All he'd needed was a liter of water, and it all had cleaned up so very well. He had an affinity for his vehicles, but the current BMW was a special favourite for luxury.

"Head down, please, thank you."

Common courtesies were, after all, a vitally important part of being British; well, his sort of British, in any case, which was quite possibly very different than the little Irish crime muffin he currently had plans to bind up quite nicely -- legs spread wide by a bar, hands tied to specially made handholds on either side of the vehicle. Just the notion was delicious, and made him appreciate the fine piece of machinery all the more.

"Fuck you."

"No, not quite." It was impossible for him not to smile as he pushed Moriarty the rest of the way into the back seat, watched him stumble just enough that he tried to brace a hand and couldn't because of the short chain linking his cuffs. "You might as well sit down."

That or he could be forced to do so. Mycroft was surprisingly strong, and had proven to be quite adept at subduing someone with the epically poor judgement to force him into doing so.

Black as pitch eyes watched him, hard and suspicious. He had no other choice than to obey and comply with the suggestion. It would undoubtedly be significantly more entertaining when he decided to do otherwise.

He was waiting for that moment, as well, in case it came, in case Moriarty did more than sit and take it and wait for his best moment. "It's some distance to a safe location to leave you. Perhaps I shouldn't release you at all." Perhaps he wouldn't was the second underlying threat.

Hm. It was possible that he was losing his touch. People rarely smiled when he said such things. "Perhaps you shouldn't."

"Don't tempt me." He pitched his voice carefully, and shut the door behind him. It shut with a heavy, satisfying thunk of armored metal, and the driver was rolling it forward in short order.

Honestly, it shouldn't surprise him, the sorts of dirty little things that very likely crossed the mind of Jim Moriarty. He was nothing like Sherlock in that way, he was certain -- pleasure was a fact of life for him, Mycroft could taste it, and he wanted to be certain that Moriarty would remember this for the rest of his very likely short life.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and just breathed, feeling the smooth leather seats beneath him. He'd had it detailed just that weekend, and the smell was fresh. For the moment. "I plan to have you begging for it before long."

Ah. That look was blatantly saucy. It was a shame that keeping him would be like having a wild animal for a pet; the enjoyment of knocking him down until he learned to behave would certainly be immense. Mycroft had to admit that he rarely found anyone worth the effort more than once, but rules were there for a reason -- so that there could be exceptions. "You haven't got what it takes to make me beg. For anything."

He just smiled, and moved into Jim's space. There wasn't a need for accoutrements just then, just his hands on Jim's filthy t-shirt neck, hauling him out of his slouch. "We'll see." Yes, they would. He didn't doubt that Jim Moriarty had... tastes. Exquisitely filthy tastes, too, the sorts of things most men paid for in back rooms and prayed that it never came to the attention of someone like... well. Any of them, really. Him or Sherlock or Moriarty. It would make a terribly public end to a career, he could only imagine.

"You haven't got what it takes," he was assured once more, and he could not help smiling.

"Hmn, and does your current lover?" He was almost nose to nose with the man in the spacious back seat, putting up the arm rest between them because they were going to need that space.

Lazy blink, the sparse, spiky tilt of those lashes accenting the vicious gleam in his eyes in a way that almost made Mycroft uncomfortable. Almost. "The weapon he's packing? Nnnn, it makes everybody else seem like it's not worth my trouble."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Pain within your control. How rough is he with you? Fucks you flat on any surface you want? Rides you until you're screaming at him?" He had a knee beside Moriarty's thigh, and loosened one hand from the man's t-shirt to slide down his stomach.

That laugh was going to be the first thing he stole. Mycroft wanted to own it. "Honey, you know he knows how to treat a man like a queeeeen." The smirk was going to be his, too. "Like a king, too. And on occasion like a stable boy, and there is no way you could even come close."

"We'll see." He rucked Moriarty's t-shirt up, found his left nipple without breaking eye contact with the man, and squeezed it hard as an opening salvo. Just to get the man to lower his guard and relax and assume there was no threat at all, because it was tame. It was just a little bit of play, and nothing at all like he preferred... at least when he was in the back seat of this car. It really was a shame that he, on occasion, had to replace the entire back seat. This would be one of those times, he knew it, and the little huff of breath it earned him made him entirely pleased with himself. "Was that frustration?" He pulled at it a little, a pert piece of flesh that had a little stretch to it. Well accustomed to abuse then, being pulled at like putty until it made Moriarty ache. Made him whine and snap and _demand_ because it was clear that he wouldn't beg. Not without a bit of... persuasion.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call what you're doing excitement."

"No? What excites you?" It was a miracle the man didn't turn it around to a question of what excited Sherlock, but Mycroft moved his hand over, pulled at the right nipple just as methodically and slow as the first.

"Soo many things." He was crooning, and it was a signal of some sort; mostly that he didn't believe that this would go anywhere particularly... exotic. "How about you? Get off on nanny changing your nappy?"

Mycroft slapped him, without a moment's hesitance, and pulled harder at his right nipple. Best to pinion his hands in place soon, but the legs, he wanted Moriarty's legs free to flail and protest. "Hilarious -- do try again."

Oh, that did get him a reaction, the same flat expression it had garnered when he was still being interrogated. Clearly face-slapping was not ordinarily on the menu. How delightful. "No. I can see that wouldn't be your sort of thing. You're the sort of man who gets off on the uncomfortableness of others; not their pain nor even their humiliation, but their sincere suffering and discomfort while you..." Both hands rose as if making a point. "...are indulging in nothing but comfort itself."

"Mmm, we are perceptive, aren't we?" He dropped the fingers that had just met the man's cheek to hold the chain that ran between Moriarty's wrists. "Let's put you in a new position, shall we? You might as well ease out of your pants, you won't be needing them shortly."

Goodness. He did love it when they fought, not necessarily physically, but deep down in them. No one could hide it from him, not even this adorable bit of rough. "But darling, it's so much more fun when you do it for me."

"Now," he repeated firmly, pushing both of Jim's wrists to the right, to the pinion point added onto the beam. It was also a convenient place for hanging suits or holding onto on a sharp turn.

So many things, truly.

"But baby." Still enjoying it, then. He would have to put a stop to that, and rather quickly. "I find it so difficult when you have my hands bound this way."

A second pair of handcuffs laced through the pinion point and secured to both of Moriarty's wrists did an excellent job, and reduced the mild sense of risk that went with the endeavour. "You'll find a way."

"And if I don't?" He continued smiling, but it was different now. More like a hyena about to make a meal of something small and helpless, which was amusing, given the situation.

"There is no 'if I don't'. You will," Mycroft reiterated. "You simply will. If I have to fuck a hole through them, you will take them off before I throw you out of this moving vehicle."

That pout would be quite adorable if the little bastard wasn't utterly psychotic. "Well, when you put it _that_ way...." He began to squirm, not in any way erotic. It was most reminiscent of some sort of seizure, he was fairly certain.

Still, he didn't need for his toys to be erotic or purposefully sexual, not when he had them where he wanted them, not when they were seated on hand sewn leather seats and well secured. He knelt back a little, gave Moriarty space to seize and twist, and then caught him by the throat.

"That's enough."

Enough, yes, and the laughter was something that Mycroft slowly choked down to nothing more than a steady, wheezing breath, fingers wrapped tightly, thumb pressing deliberately against the carotid. Moriarty began to twitch, chest heaving, and oh. That was lovely.

Ratty little upstart in a filthy t-shirt and no sweats, no pants on, just bare arsed on his leather seat, material caught around his knees. He eased up on the carotid, smiling comfortably. "I'm sure you don't even consider that a warmup."

The shaky breath he drew in was heaved out again in something like a low growl, and then he opened his eyes again and gave the most come-hither smile that had ever made its appearance in his back seat. "Oh, mmmm."

He was reaching for it, and that was deeply satisfying, watching Moriarty pull deep from his reserves -- no doubt tapped out by now, or near to it -- to transition strangulation into something he might be able to wield as a weapon. No, the drive would be far too short for his own pleasure. Mycroft smiled back, cold, distanced, wallowing in it on the inside as he slid his other hand down to wrap loosely around Moriarty's erection. "Is this something you take to in your free time often, then?"

"Every chance I get." As if it were true, even. Perhaps it was to some extent, but Mycroft was certain that it wasn't a regular sort of event. Too much of a possibility that it might kill off brain cells, in all honesty.

He smirked, giving Moriarty a slow stroke as he leaned into the man. "Liar. Tell me what you really do."

"Whatever I like. Whenever I like, and with whomever I like." Perhaps so, but he was still reacting, squirming just the tiniest bit as though he couldn't help himself.

He probably couldn't. Mycroft gave a feather light stroke, and leaned in to bite lightly at the edge of Jim's left ear. "No, you don't trust that lightly. It's a game, or a regular stab. But do keep trying to be flippant, it's quite interesting."

Charming, even. "Oh, we'll. I would so hate to _bore_ you." It still sounded as though he were playing along with everything Mycroft had to say, but there was the faintest whiff of an undercurrent there that seemed to be the smallest bit affected. "Particularly after all the fun we've had together."

"We'll always have the good old days," Mycroft countered, sliding his fingers down to pull at Moriarty's ballsac, slowly, firmly. Enough to make it ache and hurt. "And it's best to end this on a high note."

"Doubtless. After all, wouldn't want me to think you were anything like your frigid baby brother, would we?" A man who could say a thing like that while someone had a hand in his balls certainly had quite a lot of spunk. So to speak.

"My poor virgin brother," Mycroft murmured, pulling more firmly before sliding his fingers back along Moriarty's perineum.

He could see the trembling, faint, almost imperceptible, that made its way down the shorter man's body. Having that sort of power was... heady. He understood why some people preferred to dominate others than simply to have intercourse. So delightful, being in control of someone else to this extent. "Mmmm, yes. No taking himself out of his head enough to enjoy it, no interest in coming and _coming_."

"And yet you manage. That's almost superhuman of you." He stroked a touch again, dragging a fingernail over that stretch of skin behind his balls. Teasing now, just trying to drag out the reaction a bit more, and Moriarty seemed willing to go along with it. He moaned shamelessly, panting when Mycroft slid a finger back along the crack of his ass. It was sweaty and doubtless rank after the last round of interrogation. That was half of the fun, he thought, because all of this had been caused by his own decisions, each and every one.

No one to logically blame for it but himself. He was lucky he was being released at all, sweaty and dirty on Mycroft's back seat or not. "Been a while for you, then?"

That was a vicious look. Quite enjoyable. "Well, if you will keep me locked in a small room...."

"I suppose it does prevent you from slutting it up. Shall I expect a thank you note from your regular stab?" He dragged the fingernail at the edge of Moriarty's asshole.

"Mmm, oh, yes. I expect so. Shame you won't be willing to hand over footage. He does so like to wa...nnnn." Nnn, because his finger was dry save for sweat, and a shudder rippled through him. "Tease."

"You can recount it to him in graphic, lurid detail." He pulled at that edge, then leaned back a little to fish the lube out of his pocket. It wasn't so much for Moriarty's comfort as it was his own.

"Hm, well he does so enjoy hearing about my little conquests when we've been apart." Pouty lips, thoughtful mien, it was honestly quite delightful.

"Then I should have started sooner," Mycroft hummed, wetting his fingers, before sliding two into Jim without hesitance. The condom would be for his own safety as well.

"Yes!" Overdone, of course. Quite deliberate, and his dark eyes were barely visible, gleaming at him in a way that made Mycroft's lips purse.

He gave a low chuckle. "I'm not buying it, you know." He started to scissor his fingers slowly, patiently against the tight clutch.

The grunt as he pressed searchingly in him was gratifying. "Well, Mum did always say that no one'd buy the cow if you'd insist on giving away the milk for free."

It was almost unbearable when the man had been so silent for so long. "Or your sudden exuberance." Crook of his fingers, and that compact body tightened, stiffened, and there was that sadistic gleam, angry and sullen, resisting. It only lasted a split second, and then it: was gone again, but it made Mycroft's heart flutter with pleasure at the accomplishment of it. That was what he was there for, not the masks, the false fronts Moriarty was so very good at. "That's lovely. Just lovely." He repeated the movement, again and again, fainter, harder, relentless because he wanted to make the man fall apart, make him squirm sloppily on the leather seat.

"Fuck." The grinding quality of his voice, the word, made Mycroft hum to himself. It was early yet, and he wasn't ready to pull out the proverbial big guns. Soon, but not yet.

"Soon, we will." He flexed his wrist and pulled his fingers back to add a third into that tight clench.

Moriarty's hips were rocking, almost obscene in their exaggerated motions, but the cording of his throat gave a very different picture of things. "Ngh!"

"Why do you persist in pretending to enjoy this?" Mycroft pressed, turning his fingers left and then right, focusing on the leather against the back of his hand, the sweat damp thighs to either side of his wrist.

"Why do you..." He broke off with a gasp, shifting, back twisting uncomfortably. "...persist in doing it?"

"Because it feels so good to me," Mycroft answered slowly, leaning in closer, crowding in on Moriarty to make him breathe harder, have to bend in more. He wanted the man legs up and flung open beneath him, wanted him to come apart despite himself. Wanted to break him just a little, and if pain and interrogation hadn't done it, clearly pleasure might.

A shudder rippled through Moriarty and he spread his knees more widely, almost an invitation. "Then why hadn't I ought to be feeling the same?"

"Because I can tell you feel differently. There are tells in your posture, your neck. Your neck is quite expressive." He pulled the fingers back, eased them back in again, enjoying the feeling as he spread his fingerpads against the inside of him. He could fist Moriarty right there in the back of his car; he had only to ask that the driver stop at the first grocer's and bring him something adequately slick.

Ah, well. He had to have something to look forward to next time, and he had the feeling there would be one. "Hnnnn." That bitten lip was pleasant to see. He would undoubtedly try to bite something else before all was said and done.

Three fingers felt enough, particularly from the slow leak Moriarty's cock was giving with every particularly forceful touch. He bent one leg up, bringing Moriarty's ass close to the edge of the seat just then. The lack of room was a bane and a blessing. "I wager you feel delightful."

Oh, that was a barbarous smile, a glint of madness, and bound hands came up hard, trying desperately to get loose from his position before he started squirming, fighting brutally to be free. It was highly amusing. "You will regret this."

"Perhaps." It wasn't the first time he'd heard that in the back of that very car, actually. Instead, he pulled out his fingers and reached into his pocket for the condom.

"Oh, and here I was thinking you were the sort to ride bareback... at least when someone's hands are safely bound out of the way." The fact that he was neither kicking nor writhing to get loose, well. That said all sorts of interesting things, but mostly it made Mycoft smile.

"Heavens no. I can only speculate where you've been," He tore the foil open with one hand after a moment of struggling with it, unzipping his trousers with the other.

Moriarty watched him, and the expression was... He couldn't place it, not exactly. When he finally spoke, it was smarmy, utterly amused. "Have you had this problem for very long?"

"To what problem are you referring?" He mostly let his eyes linger over Moriarty's dick, bobbing against his own stomach, not quite toned and firm, but nice enough in Mycroft's opinion that it was a shame he couldn't make the man into a regular fuck. He slicked himself quickly.

Lips bitten red spread in a grin. "You can't get off if you haven't got a convenient victim in the back of your car."

"I should have the driver turn around so I can prove you wrong on that," Mycroft hissed sharply, sliding his hands up the backs of Moriarty's thighs.

Breathless laugh, and he parted them as though in invitation, gleaming with a wicked smirk. He was going to wipe that off of his face. Immediately. "I doubt it."

"But there's something appealing about it," Mycroft went on, pressing, turning it into a stress position as all of Moriarty's weight was pressed onto his hips and the lower curve of his back. He leaned into the smaller man and wasn't surprised when he shifted, teeth clicking together violently in an attempt to bite. It made him smile, shift him further so that he lost balance and smacked the back of his head into the door.

"Nn!"

"That is ill-advised, given that I could just open the door and drag your corpse alongside the car for some distance if you do bite me," Mycroft smiled, shifting his hips carefully, rubbing the head of his dick up beneath Moriarty's balls.

There was fire in his eyes, hatred and something so starkly mad that it would have given him some pause anywhere other than the back of his car. "I would imagine that would end very badly for you."

"However would you know if you were dead?" He was still smiling as he moved one hand from the back of Moriarty's thigh, took a hold of himself at the base of his dick, and positioned himself against the man's tight little hole. Lovely.

Even the smug way that he looked at him, brows lowered, had its charm. "Oh. I already know. That would be satisfaction enough."

"No, you have expectations. Really, you overestimate the mental stability of your companions in the event of your demise." He started to push in slowly, holding Moriarty's eyes. He could see the way he pulled in a breath, tried to take that steady push as though it were nothing. It was so amusing when they did that; of all the things about which Mycroft might ever have felt insecure, the size of his cock had never been in that list. He licked his own bottom lip, still forging forward, Moriarty nearly cracked in half beneath him as he felt the ring of muscle slowly spread for his condom covered cock. Going slow was more for his own enjoyment, for seeing that lovely dawning realization.

"Ffffuck." Ah, that was lovely. Dear heavens, he hated to think of letting him go at the end of the ride, for so many reasons. "Weren't you ever told it was pol-lite to knock before entering?" Cracked little laugh, yes, and then Mycroft shifted and it drew a groan from somewhere deep.

"I thought that was what my fingers were doing," he mused, pressing his mouth against Moriarty's neck just before he gave his hips a sharp forward thrust. "Mmmh, in fact I think we'll turn this vehicle around after all."

Fresh sweat had sprung up on his skin, combining with the rather unpleasant taste of the last few days in Mycroft's possession. There was the faintest hint of a whimper there, and he pulled back before pushing in again just as pointedly, bending in a way that made Moriarty's spine crackle unpleasantly. "Ngh!"

Just lovely. He closed his eyes, rocked back again slowly. "Oh, yes, I should take my time with you. Open you up properly. Releasing you into the wild is madness."

It was unsurprising when those white teeth clacked together sharply just short of his skin. "Fuck you."

"I'll take you apart," he hummed, "break all of your sad little barriers, tear you down and see what's left. Watch your empire crumble, watch your toys decay..." He snapped his hips forwards just as the car took a smooth left turn. "I remember when you were a tiny fish in a very large pond. I've underestimated you for far too long."

Shuddering gasp, and he was a little surprised that it was as easy as this. "You're underestimating me now if y-you think I won't make you pay for this."

"However will you make me pay from my cellar?" Mycroft mocked, giving another hard thrust into him.

Moriarty laughed, and the sound was tinged with something that was so close to sanity very few people could have told the difference. It was chilling and familiar, so like Sherlock when he was two steps left of right because he couldn't stop thinking. "Your cellar could only....nn! H-hold me so-oh long."

"Yes, I do suppose I'd get bored of you eventually." He thrust again, and started to set a steady pace now, regular and jarring for the other man. It made him flex tightly around Mycroft. That couldn't be a comfortable feeling, not entirely. He was sweaty and contorted uncomfortably on the leather of the seat, and Mycroft couldn't help smiling down at him.

"Fffuck you." Gasped out, and a particularly hard thrust seemed to take away his breath.

"Your capacity for denial is untold, James." It was getting hard to keep up the facade, his control, but he was mostly sure he could orgasm and keep himself together to help continue battering down the other man.

"Huuuhhh." His face was contorted, hands tightened into fists, body twisting desperately beneath Mycroft. Whether it was for more or trying to get free, he couldn't say. He didn't particularly care, as he kept thrusting, hard fast, faster. He leaned into Moriarty, panting into his hair when he finally came.

Afterwards, it was possible to feel the smaller man trembling, cock hard between them, and it made Mycroft want to laugh. Well, if he were the laughing sort, in any case. He wasn't above it, but there was no point in grinding it in any further.

He gave a few more thrusts before reaching a hand between them. It was already a tight fit. "Tell me how much you want it."

Tell him, and he would do it, the demand implied. Tell him, and it would be a matter of seconds before he could come. Those dark eyes flew open and Moriarty grinned and shifted just so, ass clamping down tightly around Mycroft's softening prick, and then he came even without the additional stroke.

Damn.

The car turned sharply again, and he wondered for a moment if it was possible to orgasm twice in a row. It certainly put a hot coil in his stomach, but he pulled out instead. "We'll work on your begging."

Rusty laughter, yes, but it still sounded stressed at the edges. "If you even think about trying to keep me..."

"However could I let you go now?" He lifted his eyebrows slowly at the man. After all. There were ways and... ways... to make sure it all worked out quite adequately. It might require some effort, but he was confident that he could arrange things so that Colonel Moran would not be a problem.

Watching as that expression blanked itself out, became exactly as it had been when he had been in the interrogation room, was quite disturbing. "I highly advise that you do, Mycroft Holmes."

"Too dangerous," Mycroft declared, shifting to the other hand of the seat while he tucked himself away. He tapped on the privacy screen, and it cracked half an inch. "Turn around. We won't be dropping him off."

It would be too much fun, and he was quite enjoying himself. The fact that the dangerous and rather terrifying Moriarty was back now that he wasn't getting fucked, well.

Mycroft would discover how to adjust his behaviour properly.


End file.
